Ludovico Ariosto

What a man sees, Love can make invisible—and what is invisible, that can Love make him see.

The higher up on Fortune's wheel you see

A wretch ascend, the sooner he will fall,

And where his head is now, his feet will be.

Driven raving mad by love—and he a man who had been always esteemed for his great prudence.

Ah, cruel Love! What is the reason why

You seldom make our longings correspond?

How is it, traitor, you rejoice to spy

Two hearts discordant, one repelled, one fond?

Reflect, ye gentle dames, that much they know,

Who gain experience from another's woe.